The director simply gave a thumbs- up—words clearly too much effort right now. But Evelyn kept her eyes on her, waiting, so Flora admitted honestly:

  —I was scared they’d all start asking us for money to be in the film, even though we warned them it’s all on a volunteer, creative basis. But turns out, none of them wanted a cent. We saved a ton on the budget.

  —You're talking about the budget you don’t actually have? God, you starving artists crack me up.

  

  
• Copy


  

  Her aunt tried to gently reframe Flora’s answer:

  —Well, not quite. More than half the people turned around and left as soon as we mentioned unpaid work. But a few stayed. So! Let’s lock in the final cast for the movie—or maybe the series. Ready?

  Flora nodded and started rummaging through her contacts, reading out numbers as she went…

  ——————

  Wilhelm paused the film he was watching for just one second—long enough to log into the Network and leave a one- star review. Then he sat back to brainstorm a negative comment about this amateur trainwreck.

  But there was still plenty of popcorn left in the package the drone had delivered, and the mountain goat had brought an entire case of soda on its soft, silky back, so the Overlord decided to suffer through a bit more of this so- called - masterpiece.

  ——————

  Preparation Stage. Irie vibes.

  Monday — praised by all the big bosses in their business odes and loathed by regular workers. The latter have to toil in sweat (or in the folds of their office pants), proving their worth to Mister Big Bucks.

  This principle could apply to many industries — except the one we’re talking about. The world of showbiz ran on a continuous loop, and it was pure coincidence that the first day of shooting landed on the start of the week.

  Film sets with tons of equipment and trained professionals were long gone — now replaced by a universal model known as - Auntie Evelyn,- who personally documented everything happening out on the street next to the infamous garage.

  Nearby, a peculiar group of people had gathered, drawing the attention of all the neighbors. One elderly man even paused mid- lawnmower to record the scene on his phone.

  Flora and Evelyn arrived last, at Copy’s insistence. She claimed that big shots must always show up late — just enough to make the staff suffer and feel insignificant. This time, the director decided to go with that advice, partly because she was secretly envious of Copy’s (or maybe her own future) success, and partly because she knew Copy actually understood this complicated business better.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Now the three of them sat on a bench a little distance from the actors, observing both them and their behavior. Ostensibly, they were deciding how to best approach them. In truth, Flora was just stalling, too intimidated to confront the newly formed troupe. Evelyn quickly saw through this and gave her a nudge:

  

  
• Let’s get on with it already, before that other surprise I told you about shows up — you know, back at your place. We need to blend in with this crew before it arrives.


  
• The dumbest crew I’ve ever had to work with. No doubt you picked these people. — Copy sneered. — Look at this Multiverse Rescue Did we recruit every weirdo on Earth, or are there still more out there?


  

  To be fair, Copy was exaggerating. The guest list consisted of a solid five.

  Here they were: Vanna (yes, the designer), Campus (the demon puppet himself), the intellectual Manu, and Costume— who by both nature and calling was a Costume, and of course, the fierce Peyota, who had already gotten into it with Vanna.

  As the film crew — consisting of a director (1), a camerawoman (1), and a self- appointed creative consultant (Copy, obviously) — approached the epicenter of the drama, they heard the Latina girl laying into the designer:

  

  
• What’d you say about my fit, huh? I ain’t part of your lil’ fashion squad, sis, I don’t need all those trendy streamer- designer I spin dat shit on my ass. I dress old school, and I ride that vibe, get it?!


  

  A cluelessly cheerful Vanna smiled back and tried to clarify:

  

  
• Come on, I just meant you’re such a stunning Aphrodite, I’d love to see you in other styles — purely from a professional standpoint! You’re absolutely gorgeous, swear to God. I even want to say, - Meow - ’cause you’re such a kitty! — She actually meowed and raked the air with her curled fingers like claws.


  
• Back off… though thanks, I Am flattered! But still, I can’t stand fashion tips, especially from pampered little greenhouse girls like ya. You ever seen how the streets dress?


  
• Excuse me, Miss… Peyota, was it? — Manu chimed in. — I may be misinterpreting the expression, and it could well be a metaphor, but based on my experience, the streets cannot


  

  Peyota gasped in outrage and started gesturing even more wildly — now addressing both opponents.

  

  
• I don’t give a damn about your - experience- ! Where you learned, I taught — how to cook


  

  opiates in a shitty trailer out in the ’burbs and how to tap into the cops’ open radio frequency while studying the Poincare Theorem?. Got that?!

  

  
• Again, according to my understanding, opiates are synthesized, not


  
• Oh shit, man, you are getting on ma last nerve! Professor, what tha hell are ya even doing here? Forget how to suck yourself off?


  

  That final line stirred up the previously silent Southern man with the puppet carrier. He remained mute, as usual, but the demon was all too happy to jump in with the worst possible timing:

  

  
• Yes! Fight! Manu, I wanna see you pound that spicy firecracker into a sexy sweet sandwich. Or the other way around! Peyota, attack!


  
• Who the hell is this nanny with a turd- knit Pokémon? — Peyota shouted, and Campus covered his plush mouth:


  

  

  
• Ooh… sick burn! Punchline!


  

  But to his credit, he quickly redeemed himself:

  

  
• You’re off the guest list for my K- party! I’ll make a plush copy of you and invite her instead. Hee- hee- hee!


  

  

  
• Costume yourself, — Peyota shrugged. — Your parties even worth showing up to?


  

  

  
• Harvey and Diddy would DJ my parties! You feel that level of fire? Heh- heh- heh!


  

  

  
• Maaaan… — Peyota offered a high- five to Campus, and they immediately The whole circus was finally silenced by Evelyn’s booming call:


  
• Everyone shut up and line up! The director’s here!